


Choose a Star and then Follow the Light

by abbyli



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Love, Mama Elf comes back to life due to the purest form of magic, Set Post The Hobbit Films, Some angst, Starting Over, and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyli/pseuds/abbyli
Summary: The woman begins to move towards him, the creatures clearing a path, but her gait is as steady as a newborn foal and she slips to her knees. He moves too, but his stride is not much better and he trips three times in his haste to get to her.He falls to his knees about three yards away from where she has crumbled, stubborn tears filling his eyes. The woman is panting, her hand stretched out and reaching for him in near desperation. He reaches for her too, the tips of his fingers just brushing hers as he utters one word that had never slipped over his lips. A word that he had longed to say but never dared for fear of being the reason the king would shut himself up in his study for weeks, the mere mention of her enough to send him crashing back into the abyss.The word is foreign on his lips, but feels so right and then…and then…“Mother?”orLegolas' mom and Thranduil's wife comes back to life. This is how their new story begins.





	1. The Magic

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> a/n: Set sort of post the third Hobbit movie. It was said that Thranduil and Legolas made up after the events of the trilogy and well, Legolas is a lot happier and more compassionate in the LotR trilogy so I’m just filling in the blanks with my own headcanons. I hope you all enjoy.

.

.

It had been six weeks.

Six weeks was usually like a minute and a half to an elf, but now time dragged on for Legolas. He felt more weary than ever, and most of that was the mental exhaustion of the days before leaving the Mirkwood. He missed everyone there, despite the fact that he knew he needed to leave, and already desired turning around and going home.

He wondered how Tauriel was, if his father had lifted her banishment and allowed her to return home. He wondered how she was faring, if at all.

Loss was never easy. And rare to elves. Because death was unusual to them. It happened, but when it did, the fallout was absolutely wretched.

His father was a living example of that.

Legolas had been a mere mortal’s age when battle had taken his mother in Gundabad. He could barely remember his life then, only a few flashes here and there flitting in and out of his dreams, and those were sparse too. But his father remembered everything. Every little bit of the queen Aindrila and he kept every memory for himself.

He had a hard time not hating his father for that. He supposes he should be grateful for the small bit the king had given him before he left but it wasn’t enough.

Was it possible to miss someone you didn’t even remember? He wonders if that is so. It must be because when he thought of his mother, there was an ache deep in the pit of his soul that never went away.

Legolas wondered if he ever knew about his mother, _anything_ at all, maybe that ache would ease. He wanted to know if he looked like her, if he acted like her. Was she an archer or did she prefer the sword? Did she enjoy wearing long beautiful gowns or prefer the traditional military garb like Tauriel did?

His travels carry on. He carries himself towards the North, just like the king had told him too, to find that ranger. Strider was his name, at least, the name that he was called. The son of Arathorn though, he knew that this man must be a fair one if his own father spoke so highly of him.

He never quite makes it.

-;

He stops at a small town to rest for a few hours and restock his supplies. He didn’t need much to survive on his travels, mere small portions of food being enough to keep him sated for hours. Sleep was sparse too, and he preferred that because he could travel great distances without having to stop for very long. The miles he had taken in just six weeks would have taken an ordinary Man months to cover.

He uses ordinary gold to pay for his things at the small shop and heads back out of town, his bow secure on his back. The air is turning a little colder, which he notes by the sharp bites on his skin despite being unbothered. The lands are still green, with bits of color touching the trees like a painting. He supposes it’s beautiful, something he would have appreciated long ago but now, now he couldn’t really care less.

Night falls and passes within a mere moment. He rises again after settling by a small fire deep within the wood, kicking dirt over the flames before carrying on. A rabbit skitters across his path, tail large and puffed up, the last thing he sees as the creature disappears into the grass.

As Legolas moves through the wood, the leaves of the trees shudder an elegant whisper. He freezes, his whole body listening hard. A warmth moves through him, easing every weary ache in his bones.

 _What kind of magic was this?_ He wondered as the forest came alive around him.

 _“Go to her, Legolas.”_ Go to who? What did they mean? The creatures of the wood began to come out of their hiding spots, walking and running past him like he wasn’t even there. As he watches them go towards the mouth of the woods where the sun awaits, he knows he has no choice but to follow. So he does.

At the mouth of the wood, he comes to a clearing, a great expanse of emerald green that rolls in waves down the hillside. The creatures, the deer, the rabbits, the birds, continue their canter down the hillside towards something that Legolas cannot quite make out.

There is a shine of sunlight that blocks out his vision, engulfing him in warmth.

 _“Go to her,”_ the wood tells him again. When the light clears, leaving the warmth, he sees it. Actually, _her._

The creatures of the woods surround her, gently nudging at her hands for a mere morsal of the magic and the goodness that radiates from her very soul.

The woman, who had just appeared out of the light, looks up at him and he sees eyes so like his own blazing up at him where he stands. Legolas’ stomach turns over and his heart jumps into his throat, threatening to choke him.

It can’t be. There was no way...and yet...

The woman begins to move towards him, the creatures clearing a path, but her gait is as steady as a newborn foal and she slips to her knees. He moves too, but his stride is not much better and he trips three times in his haste to get to her.

He falls to his knees about three yards away from where she has crumbled, stubborn tears filling his eyes. The woman is panting, her hand stretched out and reaching for him in near desperation. He reaches for her too, the tips of his fingers just brushing hers as he utters one word that had never slipped over his lips. A word that he had longed to say but never dared for fear of being the reason the king would shut himself up in his study for weeks, the mere mention of her enough to send him crashing back into the abyss.

The word is foreign on his lips, but feels so _right_ and then...and _then..._

 _“_ Mother?”

.

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	2. Home

 

.

.

“Mother? Is that you?”

The not quite so dead queen says nothing but reaches for him still. The very tips of her fingers brush against his, sending electric jolts across his skin. It tells him how very real she is and none of this is a waking dream.

Andrila stared at him, still holding the tips of his fingers like a lifeline. “O-oh.” She crawls a little closer, tears glistening in her eyes. “Legolas?” her voice comes out in a squeak and Legolas nods, his chin trembling. “ _O-oh.”_ Her fingers brush his chin. “Oh my boy. My beautiful boy...” A sob cracks her mouth.

They’re both still effectively laying on the warm, grassy ground. Legolas leans into her touch, his eyes swelling with tears. It’s only when he crawls forward that she sinks into his arms, whole and real and alive. Her fingers scratch at the back of his overcoat, gripping the fabric tightly as the front is wetted with her tears. “How old are you? How old?” She gasps when he utters his age, sinking back on her heels. “I don’t understand.”

He shakes his head. “Neither do I.”

She gasps, slapping a hand over her open mouth. Legolas’ eyes trace her form and he notices the warrior’s garb she wears, torn and dirtied like she had been in a battle just minutes before.

It suddenly occurs to Legolas that maybe she had. At least, in her world.

Aindrila’s hands reach for him again, fingers gently touching his chin and cheek. “You look so like your father.” Her eyes widen. “Your father! He lives, right?”

Legolas nods quickly. “He’s back in Mirkwood. He’s...well.”

“What does that mean?” Aindrila asks. “What are you doing here? Where exactly are we?”

“We’re near the mountains. About a seven week walk.” Aindrila’s gaping at him and he feels his face flush. “I’ll explain, I promise.”

Her hand wraps firmly around his and he slowly gets to his feet, pulling her with him.

How could this be? How was this possible? She was... _dead._ For nearly two millennia and yet, here she was like no time had passed.

Was this even her?

That horrid thought settles in his mind like a poisonous snake and he turns to look into Aindrila’s face. He lifts his hand and notices that his fingers are still shaking as he rests it against her cheek and concentrates.

He didn’t know magic. He knew his body held it, that he was capable of great powers, but the one person who could teach him to tap into it had always refused. He did know a few things, little bits that came to him naturally. Like how to tell if someone was truly there, if the face that they carried was theirs.

His eyes fall closed as he focuses and the person that he hopes and prays is his mother remains still. When his eyes flicker back open, she’s still there and her face is still the same.

She’s whispering words, words that make him look away but listen deeply. “You were born on a spring morn. You came early into the world.” She reaches up and brushes her fingers against the ends of his hair. “So small. Your father was afraid you wouldn’t make it.” A smile crosses her face, almost marveling at him. “And here you are.”

His hand covers hers and he doesn’t let go.

-;

“Do you remember it?”

He had built another fire to roast one of the rabbits he had captured this morning. His mother was kneeling beside the fire as he worked to prepare the meat, nibbling on a piece of bread he had given her out of his pack. They would rest for a few hours and then begin the travels back home to the Realm before the high noon.

Andrila’s forehead furrowed in thought and she popped another bite of bread into her mouth. “I remember...dragonfire. And so many black riders. Oh there were so many. They had found you. They almost...” She blinks hard, the last piece of bread forgotten. “I couldn’t let them touch you.”

Legolas nods in understand. His father’s words make so much sense now. “He told me it was Gundabad.”

“It was,” Aindrila says softly. “I allowed them to take me. I let them take me because then they were going to take you.” Legolas flinched. “And after that...nothing. Just an eternal blackness that was broken by light.” She smiled at him, tears in her eyes. “We should go. Mirkwood, has it changed much?”

Legolas gets to his feet and stamps out the fire, heaving the now cooled rabbit meat into his pack. “Father has tried to preserve it the way you left it. He, uh...he misses you. So much.”

Aindrila sighed. “Let’s go home.” They gazed at each other for a moment and Legolas still couldn’t believe it. His mother was standing right in front of him, _alive._ He kept wondering when he would wake from this dream.

He hoped he never would.

-;

Their travels back to the Realm seem to fly by. Legolas’ nerves rise as the castle grows closer. Ho was he going to explain this? How was his father going to react? Never mind his father, how was the _kingdom_ going to react to their queen becoming magically alive again?

A soft touch to his hand makes him jump and he looks around to see Aindrila watching him. “Try not to fret,” she tells him and he almost laughs, wondering if it had been like this when he was small, his mother always able to read him like an open book.

“It’s difficult not too,” he admits just as they pass over the bridge to where the guards wait. Legolas watches as their faces change to expressions of pure shock as they gaze upon the alive queen. Their eyes flicker to Legolas, waiting for the nod of confirmation that this is real and Aindrila is not an imposter. Legolas gives that to them and they part to let him and the queen pass.

Aindrila gently pulls away from him to throw her arms around one guard with long dark hair. “M-milady?” Narlieth whispers into her shoulder.

Aindrila pulls away, eyes teary again. “Yes it is me.”

Narlieth’s gaze darts to Legolas. “I d-don’t understand. How is this possible?”

“We’re not sure either,” Legolas shrugs. “I believe, once the king has recovered from this shock, he will know the answer.”

He hoped.

After Aindrila greeted the other guards, they continued across the palace grounds. Passerby would wave to them or nod in acknowledgement at him before freezing and gaping at Aindrila. The whispers of the palace were already greeting their ears before they even got to the doors.

_It’s a miracle._

_The queen has returned._

_The queen has returned to us._

The door to his father’s chambers is surprisingly unguarded but he supposes that they scattered when word got to them. He knocks once, his other hand wrapped around Aindrila’s wrist.

_“Enter.”_

His heart hammering in his throat, he walks in with his mother angled slightly behind him. He doesn’t see Thranduil anywhere and Aindrila gently pulls out of his grasp and goes over to the fireplace. Flames dance in the embers, sending a relaxing heat across the chamber floor. Legolas walks over to the connecting door leading to his father’s study and rapped lightly on the door. His father’s voice bade him entrance and he stepped in.

Thranduil sat his desk, his back to the door, not looking up when Legolas lightly shut the door behind him. “I’ve already eaten, Briar. No need to ply me with anymore bread and cheese.”

Legolas snorted. “It’s not Briar, Father.”

His father looks up so quickly that the quill he’s using to scratch out some royal decree goes flying out of his hand. “Legolas!” The younger elf laughs softly as his father almost leaps to his feet and nearly trips over his robes in the process. “S-son, what are you doing back?”

Legolas reached for Thranduil’s hand, capturing his wrist with his fingers. “I have something to show you. _Someone,_ actually, who is very anxious to see you.”

“Oh, Legolas, you’re not going to bring me another little urchin, are you?”

“Tauriel is not an urchin and _no._ Come along, Father. I promise, you will like this.”

Thranduil lifts a brow in surprise but does as he’s told, and for one brief moment as they step back out into the main chamber, Legolas doesn’t see Aindrila and believes that _yes,_ he was in a dream and she is no longer there.

But then he does see her, standing by the grand window. The queen turns slowly on her heel, a timid smile crossing her lips and her eyes filled with so much longing. “Hello, Thranduil.”

Legolas wasn’t sure what he was expecting from his father. Perhaps shock and disbelief. Maybe even denial.

But he most certainly was not expecting his father to emit a battle roar and pull out his sword. “Who are you?! _Why do you wear her face?!”_ Legolas notches an arrow, pointing it at his father’s wrist but what happens after, even his elf eyes cannot follow.

When he blinks, his father is on his knees with his arm twisted behind him, the sword laying discarded somewhere across the floor. Aindrila stands over him, her face exasperated but not angry at the fact that her husband had just tried to hack her head from her shoulders. Legolas lowers his bow just slightly, watching as Thranduil’s eyes widen with shock and he turns his head to stare up at Aindrila.

“Oh _gods._ It is you.”

And then the King slumps to the floor in a dead faint.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Heehee I loved this so much. The thing is, the only person that could ever kick Thranduil’s ass was his wife. That’s how he knew it was her. 
> 
> If there is anyone out there, do drop me a comment. Thanks loves.


	3. Waking Up

 

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.

The young healer walked slowly down the corridor, trying to avoid the gazes of other passerby. Ever since being allowed to return to Mirkwood, Tauriel had tried her best to avoid the intense blaming stares of everyone around her. The fellow soldiers that used to be her friends refused to look her way, not even when she would treat their injuries after battle and training sessions.

The king had been kind to her, giving his consent for her to come home. She couldn’t resume her position as captain of the guard, which she understood. But their healer had been killed during the Battle of the Five Armies and they were in need of another one. Having a job within this kingdom, especially now, was more than she could ever ask for.

She passed by the King’s chambers, hoping to make for her own quarters through this corridor rather than having to walk around the grounds. To her surprise, Tauriel found them completely unguarded and the door slightly open. Her old training immediately kicked back in and she drew the knife she was allowed to carry, easing around the door.

Through widened eyes she sees her king sprawled on the floor with his arm bent behind his back. Legolas – _Legolas!_ – is there too and he is chuckling as he kneels beside his father. “I cannot believe he fainted.”

Fainted? Oh. _Oh._ Tauriel replaces her knife and prepares to tiptoe back out but the next words make her freeze.

The third elf is a woman and Legolas looks startling like her. She’s laughing too as she kneels beside the still dozing king. “He did this when I told him I was carrying you.”

Wait...

Legolas snorts in surprise. “You need to remind him of that, Mother.”

_Mother._

Tauriel lets out a little squeak, slapping a hand over her mouth. Legolas glances over his shoulder and their eyes meet. She watches with bated breath as he examines her with his gaze before his mouth spreads in a smile. “Come in Tauriel.”

The other elf looks around, and she smiles too at the sight of her. “Is this the young elf you told me about?”

“Uh...” If Tauriel wasn’t so surprised by what was enfolding in front of her, she would have particularly enjoyed the way Legolas’s face flooded with heat. Thank Valar the King then decided to wake up.

“You always had a flair for the dramatics, Thranduil. I’m relieved to see that hasn’t changed.”

Thranduil gazed up at the woman, grey eyes wide with shock. Tauriel stayed beside the door, ready to leave because this most certainly was not her place and she had no right to see this, but for some reason, her feet remained planted to the floor. The king let out this soft sound and before the woman can say anything else, he pulled her into his arms and right into his lap as he buried his face in her chest. Tauriel supposed he was seeking the sound of her beating heart.

She jumps when she feels Legolas’ hand touch the small of her back and then she leaves, him right behind her. She waits until they are fairly down the hallway before she lets out a very undignified shriek.

“Your _mother!”_

Legolas shushes her, grabbing her arm to tug her around a corner where they are blissfully alone. She plants her back against the wall and crosses her arms, waiting for what is going to be a very interesting story. She ends up sinking to the floor when Legolas tells her every little word.

“...your...mother... _alive_...”

Her old friend is smiling when he kneels down to sit beside her. “Sounds insane, doesn’t it?”

Tauriel scoffed. “You could say that again.” She shifts in her seat to look at him. “Are you sure it’s her?”

Legolas nods. “Aye. I am.”

“What brought her back? And will it last?” Tauriel asks. “I mean, is this just a small spigot of magic that will fade?”

Legolas shrugs his shoulders. “I do not know. _But_ if it is, I am going to enjoy every moment with her.”

Tauriel’s heart tears in her chest and she tries her best to fight down the surge of jealousy in her stomach. It had been four weeks since she had returned from the mountain, from paying her respects to the mother of Kili and Fili and the loss was still heavy on her soul. She prayed every day that the ache would lessen, but judging by her King, she knew it would not.

But now, _now..._

Her eyes meet Legolas’ and he looks happier than she had ever seen in all the years she had known him. As she gazes upon him, she finds her jealousy beginning to abate down to a dull roar, replaced by happiness. The queen was alive. The queen was alive!

Could pure joy come to the Realm once again?

-;

“How is this possible?”

“We were hoping you would know.”

Thranduil scoffed, his eyes never leaving Aindrila’s face. “I’ve seen a great amount of incredible magic. But the dead rising completely intact? That is something I am not familiar with in the slightest.”

“Maybe we should send a message to Gandalf?” Legolas suggests.

“No!” Thranduil didn’t look abashed by his outburst. “After what has happened, I would rather he not come to the Realm so soon again.”

Aindrila blinked, glancing at Legolas over the top of Thranduil’s head. He shook his own head just so and she brought her gaze back to her husband. “Perhaps Elrond?”

“Yes,” Thranduil agreed and he finally tore his eyes away from Aindrila to look at Tauriel. “Very good, Tauriel.” The young elf blinked in surprise at the king’s praise but said nothing else. “Legolas, could you --?”

Legolas nodded and got to his feet. “Yes sir.” He bowed to his father and cast a warm smile at his mother before sweeping from the chambers, Tauriel on his heels.

Aindrila turned to her husband but before she could get a word out, he sweeps her up in his arms again. Laughing, she wraps her hands around the back of his head, her fingers gently stroking through his golden locks. “Y-you’re...”

“I’m here,” she whispers, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “I’m here and I am not going anywhere ever again.”

“You d-don’t know that,” Thranduil gasps against her neck. “This could be –“

“It won’t,” she says softly, holding him even tighter. “I won’t let it.”

Thranduil gently pulled himself away, wiping his face on his sleeve. He wasn’t ashamed of his tears in front of his wife, and never has been. “Come. You must be hungry.”

“Well according to everyone I haven’t eaten in over two thousand years so I suppose I am.”

He turns around suddenly, and that’s when Aindrila notes that his hair has gotten longer, now reaching his waist. “Aindrila, I...”

She holds out her hand and he takes it, leading her through the connecting door to his – _their_ private chambers.

Supper could wait.

-;

 


End file.
